So yes - I am still alive. Long story I will not get into. Anyways, hope everyone enjoys this chapter. Like always, please review. ~Ella


The next few stops, Kate decided to play detective. Sam and Dean Winchester never really talked about their past. Kate knew that her Grandpa Winchester had been killed by a demon. She also knew that Grandpa Bobby's wife had also been killed due to some sort of supernatural accident which was never mentioned, not even after he had passed away. Kate knew her father and uncle had been raised hunting and travelling, living in motels, never having a stable home. Besides that though, with these angels ... and who was this Michael that Dean was thinking of saying yes to? And saying yes to what? Kate Winchester was starting to think that there might be more to her family history than she had ever realised.

During the next time she appeared somewhere, she was able to avoid the people in the house. Sneaking around was hard around hunters, but Kate had lots of practice. She knew this house better than anyone. Admittedly some of the secret trapdoors and booby traps that she knew weren't built yet, but she was able to sneak around for a few days, trying to gather information. Unfortunately, all she found out was that her Grandpa Bobby seemed to be researching angels and revelation. Maybe her family had gone through a religious phase?

Not that it mattered, because Kate was facing a whole new slew of problems. She kept switching location. According to the clocks in the house, sometimes she would barely go a minute backwards but find herself out in the yard, or in the panic room and once uncomfortably in Grandpa Bobby's room as he slept. This was turning into all kinds of awkward and causing Kate's head to hurt. How was she supposed to fix this? How was she supposed to save herself if she couldn't even manage to stay in one spot long enough to do more than eat a sandwich or use the washroom?

She was no longer at home. She didn't know where she was, but the familiar auto yard and living room were gone. Instead she was in a ... dinner. A diner which was not empty in the slightest, in fact, Kate was extremely awkward to notice that everyone was staring at her. A bunch of men in black suits and sunglasses, an old, creepy man in a wheelchair, her uncle being held by the men on either side of him, and Cas stuffing his face with food at her feet. Not sure what the hell was going on here, Kate tried to back up, but her exits were blocked by the men in black. Looking back down on the ground she saw the demon-blade that her father and uncle had kept hidden in the safe. She remembered her father explaining it to her a few years ago, once he had started to open up a bit more about hunting.

"Oops, sorry, wrong stop," she tried to say cheerfully, ignoring the deep, uneasy pang of fear that was striking against her heart.

"Who are you? Another friend of the pathetic Winchesters?" The old man asked.

"Excuse me?" She said, forgetting her panic, unable to help the small surge of anger sparking through her. Her family were heroes, and she wasn't about to stand around and let some stuck up old geezer talk down to them in that way. "Winchester's aren't pathetic; we sure as hell can kick your sorry ass."

"You're not a Winchester," the old man said, his eyes narrowing. "That's impossible."

"Yeah well," Kate said, buying time as she edged toward the knife, "obviously you don't know the Winchester's very well or you would know that we specialize in the impossible and improbable. So now that we've established that, who the hell are you?"

She needed him to keep talking, if she could just reach the knife than her chances of survival would be a lot better. Not great, but as good as they could be in a roomful of demons. Kate suddenly wished she had been a bit more interested or insistent in learning how to hunt.

"I'm Famine," the old man said, wheezing.

"Ouch," Kate said, wincing sarcastically and trying to mimic the dry laugh-in-the-face of danger persona she had seen her uncle Dean do on occasion. "That name sucks. Can I just call you Sue instead?"

"I am one of the four horsemen, the bringers of the apocalypse," the old man seemed to be getting worked up now. "I'll watch as the world eats and starves its way into oblivion."

"Okay, hate to burst your bubble, but I'm from twenty-twenty-seven and the world is just dandy – there's no such thing as an apocalypse," Kate said, finally standing over the knife. "See, I'm Kate Winchester, Sam Winchester's daughter, and unless you let go of my uncle there, I am going to kill you."

Famine's eyes widened as he looked her over. Kate did not like the way he looked at her. His manic gleam was extremely off putting, and the demon's seemed to agree as they shifted uncertainly. Until then, Kate had been able to avoid Dean's gaze, but now his unbelieving eyes seemed to be boring into hers.

"Well little girl, you've traveled far, far away from home haven't you?" Famine sneered, his grey, wrinkled lips turning up at the edges. "Lucifer would want to meet you. What an interesting fate you have."

"Lucifer isn't real," Kate said, scoffing at the delusional demon. "There is no such thing as an apocalypse or fate and I sure as hell am not a little girl, I'm sixteen."

"Oh, ho, Dean why don't you tell your future niece the truth. No apocalypse? Tisk, tisk, what lies have you been telling this precious little girl?" Famine sneered. Could this demon be telling the truth? But how could an entire apocalypse come and go and no one knows it even happened? How could her family fight in it and keep her in the dark? Or is this what the man who had sent her flying backwards through time had been talking about?

"Listen, she's obviously crazy," Dean gasped, sending Kate a warning glance to keep her mouth shut. "I don't have a niece and Sammy hardly gets laid enough to become a dad – let alone have a sixteen year old. Just let her go."

"I can feel it," Famine said, breathing in deeply. "This girl is certainly a Winchester."

Kate was never so thankful to be whisked back in time then she was in that moment. Away from the creepy Famine man and the diner full of demons, and back to the house of her childhood. Kate sighed and tried to give herself a minute to think. She was sitting in the freezing cold, on hard metal from some busted antique of a car (it looked like it was from the nineteen-nineties at the earliest) and she had never felt so alone. In many ways, this was worst then when she had been caught in the portal and unable to communicate to anyone or anything.

She should go inside, her dress was thin and perfect for the late June weather she had dressed for that fateful morning, but this was obviously winter and snow was piled to the side of the yard and the gravel under her flip flops were frozen solid. She should get out of the cold ... but what was the use? She would just disappear soon anyways.

Leaning back and looking at the stars through the haze of her breath in the cold night air, Kate tried to piece it together. She needed to be logical. There was a man, probably an angel because from what she had been able to gather over the past days, weeks, months of skipping backwards an angel was the only things capable of traveling through time. Though ... Kate wasn't sure if what was happening to her counted as traveling, it wasn't as if there was a set destination, and she didn't seem to be slowing down. She was more like a globe trotter but through time, a time trotter ... that sounded so wrong in her head that Kate snickered slightly even as she realized she was now indoors and on a comfy couch. Her snicker became a laugh, loud and completely uncontrollable as tears started to poor down her cheeks.

"Who the hell are you?"

She didn't need to turn around and see who was talking.

"I'm Kate Winchester," she said, turning around and letting her tears fall freely. She finally cracked she decided, as she stood crying and sniffling, a complete mess of emotions in the middle of her late-Grandfather's living room.

"Winchester? You saying that cause it's true or are you being cute?"

"No, I'm ... it doesn't matter. No one can save me. I can't save myself." Letting out a humourless laugh, Kate just laid back on the couch.

"Well, that's just dandy. Now why don't you go and have your pity-party off my property before I shoot you a new whole," Bobby threatened, levelling his gun at Kate. "Why don't you go home?"

"But I am home," Kate said softly, her tears finally slowing to a light trickle. "I grew up in this house. I know every nook and cranny, every dip in the floor ... but some things aren't here anymore. I mean, there for example, right beside the fireplace, there should be some permanent marker drawing of you, dad and Uncle Dean that I drew when I was little. You were so mad when you saw it; you threatened to shove me into a nest of vampires. But I was never scared; you're such a big softie ... all gruff exterior shadowing the sweetest grandfather a girl could ask for. You passed away when I was ten."

"Who are you?" Bobby asked slowly, wheeling a bit closer to the girl.

"Why are you in a wheelchair?" Kate asked. She was feeling emotionally exhausted from her mini-breakdown. "You aren't in the future. I never knew you had been. I'm starting to feel like no one told me anything about anything. Was Famine telling the truth? Is there an apocalypse happening?"

"Famine? You mean the horseman Famine?" Bobby asked, his gruff voice betraying the hint of fear and trepidation.

"Is there an apocalypse happening right now?"

Best way to get an answer from Bobby was a direct question. Kate remembered that. That was how she had found out that no one actually knew who her mother was. Her father had danced around the question, saying how loved she was, and that he was always there for her ... but he was always mysteriously tight lipped as to who her mother was. At six or seven, she had climbed up onto her Grandpa Bobby's lap, pretending to read from the book in front of the two of them, but it was handwritten and cursive, the loops making little sense to her. She had asked then, directly, who her mother was, and Bobby had answered stiffly and with a great sigh that he didn't know ... no one did.

"Yes." Bobby's gun had never lowered, not through the whole exchange.

"I'm guessing that if I tried to hug you, you would shoot me, wouldn't you?" Kate asked with a slight smile.


"Okay ... I'll probably leave soon anyways. Just ... just know I love you, okay?" Kate said. "I never got the chance to say that before ... I just needed you to know that."

"Who the hell are you?" Bobby asked, eyeing her as if Kate was insane, and perhaps she was. She was sitting across from her Grandfather, a man who had passed away when she was ten, and suddenly Kate felt like crying again.

"I'm Sam Winchester's daughter from the future," she said with quivering smile. "In less than five years, the extra room you currently use as a room to just dump random stuff in will be my room. You told me the biggest fight Dad and Uncle Dean got in was over which colour to paint the room. Uncle Dean thought pink was too girly and Dad thought Uncle Dean was trying to make me depressed when he wanted army green on my walls. You're the one that finally told them to shut it and painted it blue. Though I'm told Uncle Dean put up a clown border just to freak Dad out."

Laughing Kate looked up towards the doorway. Bobby was gone, wheelchair and all. She had slipped away again ... she was talking to empty air. A pull deep in her gut wanted to go after Grandpa Bobby, or find her younger father and uncle, to hold them close and just stop falling. Kate was tired of being alone. She couldn't cry anymore and she couldn't go after them. Instead, she turned her back to the door; it was no use chasing after ghosts. She needed to get home.

AN: Also ... I made a small adjustment to Chapter Three, so for future chapter's it might be a bit confusing if you don't go back and reread. Thanks for the continued support. I love hearing from readers so please don't hesitate to review, or drop me a line however you feel like! Hope everyone is having a great summer. ~Ella